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Its weight was threatening to crush me, the jagged edges the bullets had torn in its torso were stabbing me like tiny knives, and the heat from several blackened places on its armor was trying to scorch me. But I barely noticed. Because that blank bronze faceplate was maybe two inches from my nose, reflecting my own stunned features back at me.
And, insanely, the only thing I could think of at that moment was Daisy, peering at me out of the side of her bucket, her eyelash drooping over one shiny cheek.
And the fact that that was a damned weird last thought to have.
But then Caleb proved me wrong, jerking the bullet-ridden body off me and sending it sliding over the ground. Which wouldn’t have helped much, except that he slapped a shield over it before it could get back to its feet. I scrambled after it, a half-formed thought hammering at my brain, and found the creature lying on its back like a bug caught in amber.
But not for long.
War mages are tough, and if the training Pritkin put me through was anything to go on, they emphasize endurance above everything. Because you can’t channel magic if you pass out from exhaustion. But Caleb had been fighting all day, and part of that time had been somewhere that required added effort. The strain was all over his face, and I didn’t think I was the only one who noticed.
There were no eyes, no mouth, nothing to form an expression of any kind on that piece of burnished metal. Just blank determination as it pushed inexorably against the shield. So why did I get the definite impression of malice staring up at us?
These things might not feel pain, but they clearly felt something.
Like for the woman who had blown a bunch of them to pieces a couple of weeks ago.
Too bad I didn’t have any of those weapons now. And the one I did have wasn’t likely to do enough damage to matter. I didn’t have anything—
My thoughts stopped, screeching to a halt at the sight of a small, diamond-shaped jewel glittering in the middle of a sea of bronze—what would have been the creature’s forehead, if it had one. I hadn’t noticed it before, because it was tiny, maybe half the size of my little fingernail, and reddish gold, almost the same shade as the metal surrounding it. It was virtually invisible at any distance. . . .
But I wasn’t at a distance, and I saw it clearly.
Like I heard my father’s voice saying, “Do you see a control gem in his forehead?”
Yeah, I thought dazedly, I kind of thought I did.
I also thought I knew what Pritkin had been trying to tell me.
Casanova came running up, and I grabbed him. “Do you have a gun?”
“Yes,” he said sarcastically. “Of course. I keep it in my underwear!”
“Then get one!”
One of his vamps tossed him a Beretta, and he snagged it out of the air even while glaring at me. Vampire senses never ceased to amaze. At least, I really hoped this wasn’t going to be the first time they let me down.
“I don’t know what good you think this is going to do,” he crabbed. “We’ve wasted a hundred rounds on that damned thing already—”
Caleb cut him off with a roar. “Casanova! Get her out of here!”
B
ut it was too late.
The shield burst and we all went flying, and then landing, in the case of Casanova and me, a good five yards away and on our asses. It hurt, but not as much as it was about to. Only Caleb recovered almost as fast as the creature, tackling it around the knees as it went for me.
“Shoot the jewel!” I yelled, grabbing Casanova.
“What jewel? What are you—”
“Between its eyes! The one between its—”
“It doesn’t have any eyes!” he screeched as the creature threw Caleb into the line of vamps and launched itself at us—
And exploded into a bunch of bronze-colored junk when Casanova got off the shot of the century.
He looked even more surprised than I was, and his hands started to shake. But when I grabbed him and screamed, “Shoot the jewels, tell your men to shoot the—”
